


Tempered

by straightforwardly



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Illness & Recovery, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:45:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightforwardly/pseuds/straightforwardly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When Chizuru stepped outside that morning, there were footprints— too small to be Saitou’s— pressed into the snow outside her home. </i>
</p><p>Post-Game. Chizuru's living a peaceful life together with Saitou, until she stumbles across someone from her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tempered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fluffybun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffybun/gifts).



Time passed, and they began to settle into their new life in Tonami. The air was cool and life was hard, as they’d been told, but it was peaceful.

Chizuru rather liked it; she suspected Saitou did as well. 

The settlement had no proper doctor and so Chizuru took up that role for them, putting the knowledge that she had cobbled together from working at her father’s side to work. She and Saitou made their home outside of the village proper and every day Saitou made the trek down to the village to work. She spent most her days at home, cleaning, cooking, and seeing to the patients who came to her. Every so often, she’d head down to the village herself, whether it was to see to a patient too ill or injured to make the trip to their home on their own, to purchase items they needed, or to visit with the handful of other women in the village.

And every day, when Saitou climbed back up the hill to their home, she’d say, “Welcome home.” And then they’d drink the tea she’d made for them together, sitting side by side.

It was the kind of life she’d scarcely allowed herself to dream of, back when the war still was in the process of dragging itself towards an end. A simple, peaceful life, together with the man she loved.

It would have been almost perfect, were it not for the dreams. 

Some weeks after they’d first reached Tonami, she’d begun to wake from her dreams during the night, moaning and drenched in sweat. It was always the same dream, though she could never remember more than snatches of it when she woke. 

Always, she dreamed of fire. Fire, and a thick, choking sense of hate. 

It troubled her, even as she tried to excuse it as remnants of the war. Kyoto had nearly burned, would have burned if not for the actions of the Shinsengumi at the Ikedaya Inn; perhaps it was this she dreamed of, of a world where things had fallen apart all the much sooner. 

She tried to tell herself this, but did not believe it. The fire burned too hot and the hatred too thick, for it to be a simple _perhaps_. 

Still, Chizuru tried to push those thoughts aside and not linger overlong on them. It was bad enough that her thrashing disturbed Saitou; she could not count the times she’d awoken, that horrible hatred still thick in her throat, to find Saitou awake as well, watching over her with eyes dark with concern. She would not worry him further by dwelling on it during her waking hours as well. 

So she pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on her patients, on her home, on Saitou instead.

And so she lived, content.

* * *

When Chizuru stepped outside that morning, there were footprints— too small to be Saitou’s— pressed into the snow outside her home. She stared at them for a moment. No patient had visited her that morning, and though she was not yet concerned, she could not think of who they might belong to. 

She raised her head and looked around, but there was no one in sight. When she looked down again, she saw that the footsteps came not from the path leading to the village, but from between the trees. It seemed as though someone had come from the forest to the doorway, before turning and heading back into the trees. 

This far north, there were few settlements, and though winter had only just begun, it was already bitterly cold. The forest was no safe place for a lone traveller.

Chizuru made up her mind almost immediately. She’d never been fond of death, and between the war and her newfound role as a healer, that dislike had only solidified further. She could not leave someone out in the forest, alone and freezing; she would follow the footprints, and seek out who it had been who stood outside their home and not spoken a word.

Because she knew just how Saitou’s mouth would thin if he knew she went out looking for a stranger with no way to defend herself, she went back into the house and took her kodachi. 

Then she stepped back outside, carefully sliding the door closed behind her, and went into the woods.

The footprints wavered and staggered in the snow before her. Once, they were obliterated entirely, before continuing on, as though the owner had fallen and then picked themselves up again. 

Chizuru’s concern grew.

But when the trail ended, there was no one to be seen. 

Chizuru looked about in confusion, but the trail did not continue, nor did anyone materialize. 

She turned—

And a figure leapt down from the trees.

Chizuru let out a short shriek, one hand flying to cover her mouth even as the other fell to the hilt of her kodachi. Before she could move, the figure raised their head—

And she found herself looking into her own face.

Memory washed over her. Okita, looking between herself and another with thoughtful eyes— _Hey, Chizuru-chan, c’mere and stand next to her_ — and Heisuke, confused, _I don’t think they look alike at all_. 

_Kaoru_.

Yet, even as Chizuru thought this, she hesitated. She looked so utterly altered from Chizuru’s memories, that she could not even be certain it was the same woman. Gone were the lovely silk kimonos and gilded hair ornaments. Grime streaked her pale skin; her hair, once so intricately arranged, hung in ragged locks around her face, as though she’d cut it short with a blade. 

In fact, Chizuru realized as she looked upon her, _she_ looked rather more like a _he_. 

Kaoru snarled, a low, savage sound. “You’re _happy_.” Her— his?— voice was spiteful and low; at the sound of it, Chizuru was suddenly certain that he’d lied about his gender, just as she had. She scarcely had time to process this realization before he continued. “After all I went through— after all I did— and you’re _still_ _happy_.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about. It was as though she’d stepped into the middle of a conversation, and she could not pick up the threads. There was something in Kaoru’s eyes that she’d never seen before. The woman Chizuru had first met had been demure, though distant, and had reminded Chizuru of nothing less than a princess. 

The person who stood before her now reminded her of nothing more than a wild animal, bright-eyed and desperate and vicious.

“Kaoru?” Her voice cracked a little. “Is— is that you?”

His mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile. “Oh, so you _do_ remember me. And here I thought that you’d be so caught up in your perfect little life that you’d forget. _Again_.” His voice changed, grew lighter though no less maniac. “ _Did_ you suffer?” He laughed, a low, harsh sound. “Does it even matter anymore?”

Chizuru’s mind was in a whirl; she could not untangle his meaning. It disturbed her, to see her own face twist so, but even more than that, it hurt her, in a way she did not understand.

“Again?” she asked, grasping onto the only part of his words that made any sense. “Do— do you mean that we met before? Before Kyoto, that is?”

As she spoke, a flash of her dreams came back to her, something that she had not recalled before. The heat of the fire, the thick, harsh smoke. And beyond it all, someone else was crying— horrible, choking, weighty sobs that broke her heart to remember.

Why was she thinking of this now?

She had no time to wonder about what it meant. Kaoru stilled at her words, like a rabbit who’d caught the gaze of a wolf. His cheeks were flushed, and she wondered, with a sudden rush of concern, if it were only madness that made his eyes so bright.

She took a step towards him and his head snapped up. For the first time he looked at her straight-on— _really_ looked at her, and not just through her, and she flinched hard, taken aback by the sheer weight of loathing in his eyes. 

Before she could even think to speak or move, he was gone.

* * *

Once she recovered from her surprise, Chizuru searched, but found no trace of him. She spent the rest of the day mulling over the encounter as she went through her daily tasks, but came to few conclusions. 

How did he know her? 

Why did he hate her so much?

There were so many questions.

The day slipped by quickly while she lost herself in thought. Saitou returned home as the sun stretched towards the end of the horizon; she only just caught herself in time to prepare the tea, and be ready to greet him at the door, as she always did.

She stood outside, wrapped in a cloak for the cold, and watched as he neared, transforming from a hazy figure in the distance to the Saitou she loved. 

“Welcome home, Hajime,” she said when he reached her, savouring the words. She’d called him _Saitou-san_ for so long, that his given name still felt like a gift on her tongue. 

“I’m home.” 

Chizuru immediately busied herself with pouring the tea once they’d gone back inside. Saitou watched her as she worked, his eyes intent and searching.

When she placed his cup before him, he did not move to take it. Instead he asked her, plainly and directly, what was wrong. 

Perhaps she would have hesitated had he seemed tired from his day, but he did not. Within moments, she found herself spilling out the story of the entire encounter. How she had seen the footprints and followed. How Kaoru had appeared, and how utterly altered he had been. His strange disappearance and his stranger words— and her newfound certainty that somehow, in some way, she had known him before.

She did not mention the appearance of the dream. The memory of those sobs felt too raw, too near, to share— like she did not even have the right to share them. 

Saitou listened carefully and did not interrupt her once, not even to make a sound. When she stopped talking, he waited, long enough to be certain that she had truly finished. Only then did he ask, “Are you certain this was the same Kaoru you met in Kyoto?”

Chizuru nodded. “He looked different, but it was definitely him.”

Saitou was silent for a long moment. She did not press him. Then: “Souji believed him to be responsible for hindering the arrests at the notice board.”

“But—” Her instinctive protest rose, then died in her mouth. She’d been certain of his innocence _then_ — but could she still be so sure now? The Kaoru she had known had been an act— the encounter of that morning had shown her that much. How could she be sure that that his protestations of innocence had been the truth?

She hadn’t thought that she would think upon this again, so many years past. 

Okita had doubted. Tiredness washed over her at the thought— not physical weariness, but rather echoes of a familiar, deep grief. When she looked at Saitou, she could see hints of that same weariness lingering around the corners of his eyes. 

Everything had seemed so simple, back in Kyoto. Or perhaps it was only hindsight; she knew that there had been problems, yet when she looked back to those days, everything seemed bathed in sunlight, bright, carefree— innocent, even. She’d known there was danger, known that people could die, but she still hadn’t really _known_. 

And now, most of the people she had known then were dead. 

Chizuru curled up against Saitou’s side and he draped his arm around her, pulling her close. She pressed her head against his chest, listening to the steady inhalation of his breath. 

She did not speak again, though there was still much she could say, and neither did he. Together, they sat in silence, and let the memories Kaoru’s reappearance had summoned wash over them, taking comfort in each other’s warmth.

* * *

Long shadows already streaked across the snow as Chizuru made her way down the path to the village. For once, it was not because she had business there. Saitou would be coming home soon, and she wanted to surprise him by meeting him halfway. 

It had been nearly a week since the encounter with Kaoru and though life had mostly settled into its earlier rhythm, there had been some changes. She had not seen Kaoru again, though occasionally she’d felt as though someone was watching her. When she’d looked, she’d found no one there, despite the unease trickling down her spine. Eventually, she’d brushed it off as her imagination, though that had not stopped her from searching each time. 

Nor had the dreams stopped, though she recalled nothing further. Each morning, she woke up with the sound of those sobs ringing fresh in her ears, and each morning, she was left with the sense that there was more to her memories, if only she could reach out and unveil them.

There had been other changes, too. Saitou lingered in the mornings, and she had to press him so that he would go to work at all. He’d never tarried on coming home before, but he came back all the quicker now. 

He never voiced his concern, but she felt it, nonetheless. Guilt welled up in her throat as she thought about it— he’d already done so much for her and now she had put this on his shoulders. 

She craved the sight of his unfettered smile. He’d always liked it when she came down to meet him; perhaps she could startle one out of him. 

It was when she was thinking all this that Chizuru happened to glance towards the forest, and saw it.

Someone lay collapsed in the snow, just beyond the treeline. 

For one long, aching moment, she stared, uncomprehending. 

Then she rushed forward with a gasp, stumbling towards the figure. _Please be alive, please be alive_. She had seen enough death in her life. _Please_. 

As she neared, she saw:

It was Kaoru— _it was Kaoru_.

She fell to her knees besides him, uncaring of the snow soaking her clothing as she reached out to him. His forehead burned against the touch of her hand, and his breath rattled in his lungs. 

His eyes slid part-way open, glassy and unseeing, as she tugged at him, but she could only lift him up so far. He needed to get inside, out of the cold and snow— but there was no way she would be able to carry him by herself.

“Hajime!” she called, her voice rising. She didn’t look away from Kaoru, not even for a moment. She propped him up the best she could against her lap, so that at least his head would not be in the snow. Her hand ran down his face, to against his neck, so that she could hear the thump of his heart. “Hajime!” He could not be far, she knew; if she called, he would hear her and come without fail. “Hajime!”

“Go— away—”

Chizuru started; she had not realized that Kaoru was still conscious. He batted weakly at her arm, his eyes only half-focused on her. 

“Kaoru!” she blurted out, unable to contain the emotion in her voice. She bent down low. “It’ll be alright— Hajime will be here soon—”

“ _I don’t need your help_ ,” Kaoru half-snarled, the words devolving into a choking cough as she held on to him. 

“Don’t speak,” she said, but he ignored her, spitting out his words between each wracking cough, his face twisted with hate. 

“I’m not some weak— pathetic— _human_ — don’t need your _pity_ , I _don’t_ — need _anything_ from— _you_.” He struggled against her grasp, but his attempts were feeble, weakened by the fever wracking his body, and she did not let go. 

“You need help,” she said, a little desperately.

“Not from _you_ ,” he spat, though his voice had weakened.

“Why?” she asked, only in part because she wanted to know the answer. His struggles were using energy he did not have, not in this state— maybe if she distracted him with her questions, he would forget to fight her. 

Kaoru managed a short, bitter-sounding laugh. “You have to ask? After everything I’ve suffered, just because you were born—” He looked up at her with eyes glassy from fever and glittering with loathing. “Every time you look at me with that worried face— _it disgusts me_.”

She heard the soft crunch of footsteps and did not have to look up to know that Saitou was there. “He’s sick,” she said without looking away. “We need to get him inside—”

She didn’t have to say anything more. Saitou bent and lifted Kaoru into his arms. She’d expected him to struggle anew, but their brief conversation seemed to have worn him out; he simply laid there, limp, the constant rattle of his breath the only sign that he yet lived.

The walk back to their home was not a long one, but they had not even broached the threshold of the trees when Chizuru looked over to see that Kaoru had slipped from forced compliance into uneasy sleep. 

“Are you certain of this?” 

Chizuru glanced up at Saitou. “Huh?”

He did not lift his gaze from the path before them. “He does not seem fond of you, and he has lied before. He could be a danger.” _I could get rid of him for you_ , he did not say. 

He did not need to. 

Chizuru shook her head. “I want to know who he is. He seems so unhappy. And…” She hesitated, then decided to say it anyway. “I don’t want to use you that way.”

“...Ah.”

* * *

Kaoru did not stir awake, not even when they entered the house. Saitou set him down on the tatami mats and Chizuru immediately set to work, stripping him of his soaked clothing. 

She halted at the sight of his torso. It was riddled with aged scars, though that was not what caught her attention; scars in general were not an unfamiliar sight for her after so many years with the Shinsengumi. No, it was the scars around his stomach that gave her pause; they were thick, nasty, and unlike any she’d ever seen. 

No sword had given him those. So what had? 

She thought back to what he had said, shortly before Saitou had arrived. _After everything I’ve suffered, just because you were born_. Was this what he’d meant?

Kaoru groaned, bringing her back to the task at hand with a jolt. With a guilty flush, she finished stripping off his wet clothing and, with some help from Saitou, dressed him again in one of her own old, worn yukata. After laying out a spare futon, they laid him down on it so that he could finally rest.

He’d had a sword with him too— one that looked very like her own kodachi. She’d placed it with the pile of the wet clothing she intended to take away, but that had not set it out of her mind. Were the two blades connected? What did it mean, that he had the other?

He’d said he wasn’t human. Did that mean he was a demon, like her? She tried to push away those thoughts, to concentrate on healing him first and on asking him questions later. 

Still, as she sat by his side, wiping sweat from his brow, she looked down at his face, so like her own, and couldn’t help but wonder: _Are we family_?

* * *

That night, Kaoru’s fever worsened.

Chizuru threw herself into caring for him. She measured out medicine, heated water for tea, wiped away his sweat. She hovered at his side and watched as he groaned, tossing and turning on his futon. When he was awake, he was little better, murmuring deliriously to no one as she coaxed broth and medicine down his throat. 

He spoke constantly, awake or asleep, though she understood little of what he said. Sometimes, he called out for his mother; at other times, his voice grew vicious, and he snarled at people she did not know. Once, she thought she heard Kodo’s name, though he never repeated it again. He babbled on endlessly about demons, about plans, about things so vague she couldn’t even begin to comprehend what he meant.

Her name was often on his lips. 

For days, this went on. Saitou had to force her to step aside so that she would get any sleep at all. 

The first time he’d tried this, she’d been awake all night and for a good portion of the following day as well. Her muscles had ached and her head had pounded for lack of rest. Still, she’d protested, fiercely. “I can’t go now! He needs me!”

But Saitou had shaken his head. “It will not do you any good to exert yourself in this way,” he’d said. When she’d looked to protest again, he added. “His condition has not changed. I can take over while you sleep.”

She wavered. “If something goes wrong—”

“I will wake you if anything changes,” he said. 

Chizuru nodded and stood, giving in. But when he moved to take her place at Kaoru’s side, she caught at his wrist, her fingers curling around the delicate skin.

“Hajime— _do_ take care of him, please.” He looked back at her, questioning. She swallowed, her heart pounding. “I— I think he might be my brother.”

Saitou did not seem surprised by this revelation. “I will watch over him,” he assured her once more, his voice soft. He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth. “Now sleep.”

* * *

Mid-morning on the fourth day, Kaoru’s fever broke. 

It was not the end of it— his breath still rasped a little in his throat, and she thought that he’d likely be weak for quite some time— but the main danger had passed, and so Chizuru allowed herself a small sigh of relief. 

He woke not long later.

Chizuru was at his side, though she was, for once, not focused on him. She was in fact in the middle of writing up a list of instructions for one of the inhabitants of the village— her son had cut himself, and she needed to know how to make sure the wound healed clean and well— when Kaoru stirred. When she glanced over at him, she found him staring at her, clear-eyed.

She dropped her brush. “Kaoru! You’re awake!” She reached out to him, but he flinched back so sharply that she halted, mid-movement. “...Kaoru?”

“What am I doing here?” His words came out cold, demanding. 

Chizuru drew her hand back. “You were sick,” she said, somewhat hesitantly. “We took care of you.”

She did not know how to describe the look that crossed his face. Disgust, anger, even a bit of horror, and some emotion she could not name mingled together as he stared at her. Then it faded and all that was left was disdain.

“You wasted your time. I didn’t need any help— not from anyone and especially not from _you_.”

“But—”

“Did you think that I’d be _grateful_? That I’d fall to my feet before you and beg your forgiveness?” Kaoru sneered at her. “I _despise_ you, my dear sister. Never forget that."

The revelation that she had been right— that he was, in fact, her brother— almost passed unnoticed as tears burned at her eyes. She hadn’t, of course, expected him to prostrate himself for her, hadn’t expected anything of the sort. She’d known too, from their brief conversation in the snow, that he didn’t have the fondest feelings for her. But to be faced with his vitriol so openly, to hear him say, in his own words, that she was his sister and he did not care—

It _hurt_.

She blinked quickly, refusing to let her tears fall. “I—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed heavily, trying to compose herself. “You’re still recovering,” she said, finally, putting on her best doctor’s voice. She stood. “It’s too early for more medicine, but I’ll make you some tea.”

Kaoru stared. “Are you deaf? I said—”

“I-I don’t care,” Chizuru said, though that was a lie. She lifted her head, just a little. “You’re my patient and I’m going to take care of you.”

Kaoru let out a wordless snarl of frustration, but she didn’t wait to hear what he’d say next. She walked quickly out of the room and slid the door closed behind her.

She stood there for a long moment, simply breathing. Then, she began to prepare the water for tea. 

When the warm scent of ginger wafted through the room, Chizuru put together a tea tray, wiped away any tears that had managed to fall in the meantime, and re-entered the room where Kaoru was.

* * *

“You know, I came to visit you one night, back in Kyoto,” Kaoru said without warning. His tone was easy, conversational. 

It had been several days since he’d first woken up, but Kaoru had spent most of that time in silence. After his initial outburst, there had only been one other squabble, when she’d first tried to feed him. He’d snapped at her and insisted on feeding himself, despite his weakness. His hands had shaken so badly, that he’d only ended up dropping half of his food onto his futon. 

He’d allowed her to help him with his meals after that, though not without giving her many dark looks in the process. She’d heard little from him after that.

Until now.

He continued. “But you weren’t there. I was quite disappointed— I’d planned on giving you a gift.”

Chizuru paused in what she was doing and looked back at him. At some point before she’d come in, he’d managed to prop himself up against the wall on his own, though the sweat beaded at his temples told her that it had taken him no small effort. 

He seemed— different. There was a cruel lilt to his words and an assurance about him that contrasted sharply with the angry silence of the last few days, or the wildness he’d shown her before.

Uncertain, she said nothing.

A cruel smile unfurled across Kaoru’s face. “Oh? You don’t want to know what your gift was?” He tilted his head to the side and didn’t wait for her reply. “I was going to turn your Okita into a fury.”

Chizuru couldn’t contain her sharp gasp. _Okita-san— a fury?_ She couldn’t imagine it— and yet, at the same time, she could, all too well. 

Kaoru laughed, though it quickly devolved into a cough. Still, even this reminder of his sickness didn’t manage to wipe the cruelty from his smile; he wiped his mouth with his fist and looked over at her with glittering eyes. 

Something inside of her twisted at seeing his face— _her_ face— look at her like that. 

“Oh? So it _would_ have hurt you— I’d wondered. I was wrong about Okita-san being yours, of course, but perhaps I should have done it anyway, if you make that sort of face just at the thought of it.”

He sounded so _happy_. Chizuru’s fingers clenched around the tray she’d used to carry his food. “W-why…?”

Okita didn’t deserve that. No one did.

“I told you that I despised you, dear sister.” He didn’t stop smiling. “Does it really surprise you that I wanted to see you suffer as well?”

He’d said something similar to that before, she suddenly recalled. The first time she’d come across him in the snow, he’d asked if she’d suffered, though he hadn’t said it in the same way. When he’d asked, he’d been wild, almost desperate— almost broken. 

_“Does it even matter anymore?_ ”

Her grip on the tray loosened. The Kaoru sitting before her seemed built of spite, but she had seen another side to him, too. He’d lied to her in Kyoto, but there had been no dishonesty in him when they’d met again in the woods. He’d been too raw and open for that— too full of pain. 

There was more to him than just the horrible face he showed to her now. She was sure of it.

After all, Saitou had frightened her as well, back when they’d first met. 

Chizuru took a steadying breath. “Well, I don’t want you to suffer,” she said. She nodded towards the packet she’d placed by his bedside. “So, please take your medicine.”

Surprise flittered briefly over Kaoru’s face, but he quickly replaced it with another sneer. “Oh, now you’re trying to be compassionate. How _novel_ ,” he said. “I didn’t stop there, you know. I had so many plans for how I could make you miserable…”

His voice had grown dreamy; Chizuru shuddered.

“Disgusted?” Kaoru laughed, delighted. “Now you know how I feel each time I look at you, dear sister.” Then, almost as though it were an afterthought, he added, “It’s such a pity Kodo died when he did. He had such _interesting_ ideas…”

Chizuru sucked in a quick, sharp breath. “K-Kodo?”

“Ah, yes. I thought you might be interested in hearing that.” Kaoru tilted his head again. “You were behind his death, were you not? _Such_ an ungrateful daughter. He gives you a wonderful childhood and you repay him by having him killed.”

“It wasn’t like that. He...” Chizuru swallowed, fixing her eyes on her fists, clenched in her lap. “He wasn’t my father anymore.”

“He was _never_ your father.” Chizuru looked up, startled; for a moment, Kaoru’s voice had grown hard and cold. But then he laughed and his voice returned to its previous, affected lightness. “But I suppose that doesn’t really matter, does it? You still let him die.”

Chizuru wanted to protest. Kodo had been mad. Had in the end, not seen her as a daughter, but as a broodmare for Kazama, and had wanted nothing more than to give her over to him. But…

It was true that he had been the one to raise her, that she’d loved him as her own father. And she _had_ left him to die; she’d known full well what Heisuke would do, when she’d gone ahead with Saitou instead of staying behind to witness that battle.

Nothing Kaoru had said was a lie, not truly. 

She said nothing. 

Judging by his own silence, Kaoru hadn’t expected that; he didn’t seem to know how to respond. Finally, he seemed to decide that it was a victory, and reached for the medicine packet she’d placed by his side.

“Aren’t you going to help me with this?” he asked, with played innocence.

* * *

Kaoru’s earlier silence now appeared as a distant memory, as he delighted in needling her at every opportunity. He seemed to take especial pleasure in telling her of all the plans he’d made, the myriad ways in which he’d intended to ruin her life. He’d found weakness and now picked at those wounds constantly, laughing at every wince, every shudder he could elicit from her. 

Saitou did not intervene, at her request, though she could tell he was not pleased. He kept his swords ever near, even as they slept.

One day, as she brought in a tray of food for his dinner, Kaoru said, “Not all of my plans failed, you know.”

Cold splashed over her, as though she’d been tossed headfirst into the snow. 

“...What do you mean?”

He was smiling— never a good sign. “Do you remember when your Shinsengumi’s leader was shot?” Her eyes widened, and his smile grew to show teeth. “Ah, so you _do_ remember— I’m glad.”

“Did you—” 

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, but he seemed to understand what she meant.

He laughed. “I’ve never touched a gun in my life, dear sister.” He paused, just long enough to let those words sink in, then pressed on. “However, I _may_ have… mentioned to some people who… did not view the Shinsengumi kindly that he would be there, at that time.”

Chizuru closed her eyes. _Kondou-san_. The air in the compound that day had been thick with fear and tension. How Okita had raged, shouting at Hijikata until he started choking on blood and had to be forced back to his room to rest, how new lines of tension had formed on Inoue’s forehead and never went away again, not really. 

Kondou getting shot had not caused the Shinsengumi’s downfall— _that_ had been beyond any one person’s control— but it had marked it, as the beginning of the end. 

“I wish you could see your face right now,” Kaoru remarked. 

“I don’t understand.” Chizuru’s fists clenched in the fabric of her yukata. “Why do you want to hurt me so much?”

Kaoru’s smile vanished. “You really need to ask?” His voice grew hard, like it had when she’d called Kodo her father. “You’re my _sister_. We share the same face. And yet _you_ got to have a happy, loving childhood, while _I_ was punished for not being you— even now, you live your perfect life, while I suffer!”

“My life isn’t perfect!” Chizuru burst out. “Most of the people I’ve ever loved are _dead_!” 

Kaoru laughed, high and cold. “Oh, and their deaths hurt you _so_ very much. Don’t try to fool me. I _saw_ you, dear sister— cuddling, smiling, _laughing_. As long as your precious _Hajime_ survived, their deaths don’t matter at all to you.”

“That’s not true!” She was standing; when did she stand? “It does hurt! Every one of their deaths hurt!” _Inoue-san’s gentle eyes, Okita-san’s mocking smile, Hijikata-san’s sternness and determination, Yamazaki-san’s calm and Heisuke’s enthusiasm, Kondou-san’s cheerful kindness_ — she could see them all so clearly in her mind, and yet she knew that she would never look upon them again, would never hear their voices again, would never hear the sound of their footsteps, would never— never—

Kaoru was staring at her, wide-eyed, and she realized, suddenly, that she was crying. 

She whirled around and ran out of the room.

Saitou had already stood and she knew, from the look in his eyes and the way that his mouth was pressed thin, that he’d heard every word. 

She fell against him, sobbing, and let herself fall apart as his arms, warm and sturdy, wrapped around her.

* * *

When her tears had run their course, Chizuru began to pull back, albeit reluctantly. She wanted nothing more than to stay there, burrowed in Saitou’s arms, but guilt— for crying all over him, for worrying him, for making such a scene— had already begun to crawl up her throat. 

Saitou was frowning, a little, but she knew it wasn’t aimed at her. When she looked up at him, his gaze was directed at the doorway across from them— where Kaoru was.

“Hajime?” Her voice cracked, still raw. She was sure that her eyes were red from crying.

He looked back down at her and his eyes softened. “Yes?”

She didn’t answer, but gave in, and pressed her face against his shoulder, taking comfort in his presence. He was still alive. Almost everyone else had died— fresh tears sprang to her eyes at the thought— but Saitou had survived— was still there, with her. 

Maybe Kaoru was right, on at least one count. Maybe Saitou’s survival _had_ made the others’ deaths easier to bear.

But he was wrong when he said that they didn’t matter.

She took a long, shaking breath, blinking away the last of her tears, then pulled away again. “I’m sorry,” she said, with a halting attempt at a smile. 

His hand touched her cheek. “You needn’t be.”

She took— stole— another moment, to soak in the comfort of his presence. Then she spoke.

“I need to go back,” she said, though the words felt heavy, reluctant, in her mouth. “I left too fast— I didn’t get a chance to examine him. I need to see how he’s healing.”

Saitou’s expression didn’t change. “Do you wish for me to accompany you?”

She hesitated— then shook her head. “No. I’ll be fine.”

* * *

Although she knew logically that nothing in the room had changed, it still somehow felt darker and smaller than it had before. 

Kaoru didn’t look at her, as she slid the door shut behind her. 

Her gaze fell to his dinner. He’d eaten a little, since she’d left, but not much. Most of it still remained. She didn’t know what to make of that. 

She didn’t push it. “I— I still need to examine you,” she said instead. 

“...Do what you like.” His voice came out in a low mutter. 

She checked over him as quickly as she could. Kaoru did not resist. 

Finally, she sat back on her legs, finished. “You’re healing well,” she said, truthfully. 

Kaoru scowled, but said nothing.

Chizuru hesitated. She could leave now— had nothing further to take care of. But something he had said still lingered on her mind. “Can… Can I ask you something?” 

When he didn’t protest, she pressed on. “Earlier, you said something about how you were— punished, for not being me. What… what did you mean by that?”

Kaoru leaned back against the wall. “When our clan was destroyed, we were separated. Kodo took you in, but _I_ was sent to the Nagumo family. They’d hoped for you and were, ah, _disappointed_ , when they realized they’d been given the worthless male twin.” He smiled, a sharp, awful smile. “That… disappointment was made very clear to me.”

Chizuru’s eyes went wide. His meaning was all too clear. She still recalled the scars that had been scattered all over his torso— _not made by a sword_ , she’d thought then, though she hadn’t been sure what had. 

She pressed a hand to her belly, nausea stirring in her throat. 

Kaoru noticed her reaction and stiffened. “ _Don’t_ ,” he snapped, or tried to. His voice wavered. “Don’t _look_ at me like that!”

“Kaoru…” _Worthless_ , he’d said, bitter but _accepting_. As if it were a part of him, now. Those scars— his _voice_ —

What had the Nagumo done to him?

“ _Stop it_.” Kaoru stared at her, wild-eyed. “I don’t want your pity— I want your _pain_ —”

His voice broke off, and whatever he would have said next was lost as Chizuru leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” she said thickly, her words muffled by the cloth of his yukata. He was as stone in her arms, stiff and unmoving. “I’m sorry.”

* * *

That day marked a turning point.

Kaoru still lashed out at her after that, but less often than before, and with far less conviction. He still grew angry if she asked after his past, but he never remarked upon the Shinsengumi or their fates again.

Chizuru didn’t know what had triggered this change, but she accepted it with pleasure.

One day, as she brought in a serving of tea for him, he spoke. 

“Mother used to do the same for us, when we were sick.” Chizuru paused, just as she was about to pour his cup, and looked up. There was a distant, almost dreamy look on Kaoru’s face. “She used to say that ginger tea could cure anything. We could barely cough without her whisking us away to drink some.”

“You remember our mother?” The words came out of Chizuru’s mouth before she could think about them. 

When Kaoru’s eyes fell upon her, it was as though he’d never seen her before. 

That expression quickly vanished, however, as did any sign of softer emotions. He made a disdainful sound. “Of course _you_ wouldn’t remember.” 

Chizuru ignored this. “What— what was she like?”

He didn’t seem to have expected this.

“Like— like a mother.” Chizuru watched him patiently, waiting for more, but he looked away. For some long moments, he was silent. 

Then, quietly, he admitted, “I don’t remember her too well, either.”

Chizuru said nothing, but reached out and set her hand on his. He didn’t push her away.

They sat there in silence for a while, as the tea cooled in its pot.

“I dream about fire, sometimes.” 

Chizuru didn’t know what prompted her to say it, but its effect was immediate. Kaoru sprang to life at her words, like a bud unfurling its leaves in the spring.

“...Fire?” he repeated, leaning forward.

She could not take the words back now, not when he looked at her in that way. Chizuru nodded, not quite able to meet his eyes. “I don’t remember much, when I wake up. But there’s always fire.” Her voice grew softer, the more she spoke. She’d spent so long saying nothing, that talking about her dream felt strange. “There’s someone carrying me, running, and I— I can hear someone crying.” 

She almost said, _And I remember hating_ , but that felt a step too far, too personal, and so she bit back her tongue. 

“...So you haven’t completely forgotten.” It took her a moment to place Kaoru’s tone. He sounded— pleased. Almost like a teacher, praising their pupil.

Chizuru closed her eyes. “It’s real, then,” she said, her voice heavy.

She’d suspected as much for some time now. But to hear it affirmed— to know that such awful memories were real, were _hers_ — 

“That was the day our clan was destroyed,” Kaoru confirmed. 

She’d half-forgotten her hand on his, but Kaoru, it seemed had not. He returned the touch, haltingly curling his fingers around the back of her hand.

In a voice so quiet that she could barely hear it, he said, “My sister.”

* * *

The next morning, Kaoru was gone.

* * *

Chizuru knew the moment that she opened her eyes that something was wrong. Saitou was already gone from her side, but that was not what concerned her; he often woke before her. 

What bothered her was that the room was still— silent. The only breath she heard was her own.

She sat up and looked over at the other side of the room. Kaoru’s futon was rumpled and empty.

There were reasonable explanations, she told herself, even as she scrambled to her feet. He’d been getting stronger; perhaps he only wanted to practice walking. 

That faint hope withered and died when she slid open the door and found Saitou on the other side. He’d just come in from the outside; she could see a few stray snowflakes still melting on his hair and shoulders.

With just one look at him, she knew.

Still, she couldn’t help but put voice to her thoughts, half-hoping that Saitou would contradict her. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

Saitou made a soft sound of agreement. “There are no footprints. He must have left in the night.” He paused. “It would be difficult to find him now.”

“Oh.” Chizuru slumped against the doorframe. _Why_? She’d thought things were getting better. He’d seemed almost happy when she’d told him about her dreams. He’d held her hand, called her _sister_ like he meant it. 

She’d thought—

She closed her eyes against the sudden burn of tears. 

After a moment, Saitou spoke again. “He took his sword.”

It took Chizuru a moment to parse his meaning. Saitou had been wary of him this whole time, had been watching him for any sign that he’d harm Chizuru. But last night, Kaoru had held his sword in his hands— and done nothing.

It was not much. But it was _something_.

Chizuru opened her eyes again and looked to Saitou. He gazed back at her, quiet concern lining the skin around his eyes. He’d supported her when she needed to face her father and Kazama, and she knew without asking that he’d support her again now. 

Fondness swelled in her at the thought. 

She said, “I want to look for him.”

* * *

They did not find him. They tore up the snow in the woods near their home with their footsteps, but could find no trace of him. It was as though he’d simply vanished.

Eventually, Chizuru had to admit defeat, albeit reluctantly. 

Gradually, life returned to what it had been before Kaoru’s arrival. 

She still dreamed of the fire, but remembered nothing further. A young man in the village broke his nose, while an old woman developed a cough, and Chizuru lost herself in her work as she tended to her patients the best she could. Dark fell sooner every night as winter neared its zenith, bringing Saitou home to her earlier and earlier each day. 

She worried after Kaoru, but there remained no sign of him— not in the forest, not in the village, not in their own home. 

It was almost as though he’d been nothing more than a dream, a figment— a spirit.

* * *

And then, one day, shortly before the new year, Chizuru returned home from the village to find Kaoru standing in front of her home as though he’d always been there.

She’d been carrying some packages with her; she dropped them into the snow as she scrambled towards him. “Kaoru!”

Kaoru’s head jerked up and belatedly, she recalled that he’d never been quite comfortable with affection from her. She thought for a moment that he would run again, but he remained where he was. 

Still, she slowed down and reached him at a walk. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. Instead, she said, simply, smiling, “You’re back.”

“...Yes.” He looked away, a pained expression stretching across his face.

Chizuru hesitated, picking over her words carefully. She didn’t want to frighten him off again. “Are you alright?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he bit out, that pained look vanishing as annoyance coated his words.

Chizuru wondered if it was strange that she was relieved to hear it. 

They were both silent for a moment.

“...Do you want to come inside?” she asked, finally.

“Aren’t you _curious_?” The words came out in a frustrated rush.

“Huh?”

“Don’t you want to know why I left? Why I came back?” Kaoru made an odd sound. “I thought you’d be curious.”

Chizuru blinked. “I am,” she said after a moment. “But— I didn’t want to push you.” Then, because she thought she could risk it, she reached out and touched him gently on the arm.

He stared down at her hand and just like that, his outward appearance of calm broke apart. 

“How can you be so _calm_? So— accepting?” he demanded, his voice open and raw. “You _know_ what happened to our family. You _watched_ as the humans and the western demons killed people you loved. _I saw you hurting_. How can you not be angry?”

“I—” Chizuru began.

“I was going to make a kingdom,” he said abruptly, as though he hadn’t heard her. Perhaps he hadn’t; he looked past her now, his eyes fixed on something she could not see. “Once we were the same again, we were going to build it together. We were going to hurt everyone that ever hurt us and then we would have a _home_.” His voice rose, grew more frantic. “I had it all planned out with Kodo. He was going to help us. But then he _died_ , with _Kazama_. I can’t understand. He was only playing with Kazama; why did he die with him?”

“I don’t know,” Chizuru said, because she could not say anything else. She wasn’t certain that she entirely understood what he was talking about, but— his voice was filled with pain. _He_ was in pain. 

That was all she really needed to know.

She reached out and felt him start, then freeze, unyielding, as she hugged him. They lined up perfectly, shoulder to shoulder.

“I… don’t really understand everything,” she admitted, her voice low. “I don’t know anything about kingdoms or what happened with Kodo, or what happened to you. But…” Her arms tightened around him. “...if you want a home, you can have one here. With us.”

Her words lingered in the air. An age passed, where Kaoru said nothing, where she heard nothing but the soft sound of his breath. 

Then, slowly, gradually, he wrapped his arms around her.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to express my thanks to Hokuto for looking over this for me. <3


End file.
